Hold My Hand
by L Jerome
Summary: Writter for a prompt: John goes into hard labor at the pool after Irene's text and he must talk a nervous Sherlock through the delivery. non-slash mpreg, delivery scene, slight ooc, and just a sprinkle of omegaverse.


**Author's Note: YAY! My first prompted story! I forget where I found the request but the request was:**

_**'Want some mpreg. But more than that, I want a pregnant John going into labor at the most inconvenient time (ex. John and Sherlock are kidnapped and locked away)forcing John to have to be his BAMF self and talk a panicking Sherlock through delivering the baby.'**_

**Which was actually harder than I thought it would be... But I loved the idea enough that I had to at least try and came up with this! Of course now when I watch the beginning scene in 'Scandal in Belgravia', I grin like an idiot because of this. :)**

**I did set it in the Omegaverse as that was the easiest way I could explain the pregnancy, but I'm still trying to understand how it works so if it fails in that sense, I'm sorry...  
**

**I did take the idea a little bit from the 'Real Men' episode of 'Alien Nation' which had a very similar plot. If you're an mpreg fan and haven't seen it yet, I definitely recommend going on Youtube and looking it up. :)  
**

**Otherwise, enjoy!**

* * *

"Say that again!" Jim Moriarty shouted into the phone; making both of them jump slightly at his reaction. Certainly not what you were expecting of one who had a Beegees classic for a ringtone.

"Say that again and know that if you're lying to me, I will find you and I will skin you..."

Glancing back, Sherlock gave a quick look at John who looked rather pained while doing all he could to stay calm. But of course John had a lot more to worry about. Instinctively, his arm was wrapped protectively around the large bump that contained his and Sarah's second child; a girl this time. She had already faced death three times in the past few minutes (once being his own fault...) and she wasn't even born yet; he wasn't about to let her face it again.

"Sorry. Wrong day to die."

"Oh. Did you get a better offer?"

The slightest of smiles crossed Jim's face. "You'll be hearing from me, Sherlock." he said before returning_ to his phone call. "_So if you have what you say you have," he said back to the person on the cell phone as he proceeded to calmly walk out of the room. "I'll make you rich. If you don't, I'll make you into shoes..." And with a snap of his fingers, the snipers disappeared and it was all over.

Cautiously, Sherlock looked around the room. If there was ever an opportunity for them to be killed unsuspectingly, this was it. But he wasn't going to give them that opportunity. They weren't going to get either of them; not if he had anything to do with it. Besides, if he didn't bring them back safely, Sarah would have his head...

From the floor, John let out a shaky breath, part fear and part relief. "What happened there?"

"Someone changed his mind." he replied. "The question is, who?" Sherlock didn't have time to contemplate this though as he heard John let out a rather loud groan. Looking back, he could see the pained looked intensified from where he sat on the floor; taking deep breaths as his hand rubbed across the round bulge of his stomach.

"You alright?"

He started to nod but quickly decided against it. "No. I'm not..."

Looking down, he noticed the wet stain on John's pants increasing in size and swallowed hard, knowing what the cause of John's pain probably was.

"Your waters have broken."

He nodded quickly, but not before giving Sherlock a look of pure annoyance for pointing out the obvious. "The stress...has brought on...premature labor..." John panted. "It had started...earlier tonight. Just Braxton-Hicks; nothing serious. But this... Too much stress... Pains have been getting...closer all evening..."

Sherlock's heart lept into his throat. This wasn't supposed to happen. John's due due was still three weeks away and he had already from day one made perfectly clear that he didn't want to be anywhere near when 'it' decided to make its appearance. "I...I'll drive you to St. Bart's..." he stammered, unsuccessfully hiding the trace of fear in his voice.

John quickly shook his head as he blew away the rest of the contraction. "No time... The contractions are less than two minutes apart. She's not going to wait that long... We're gonna have to do it here."

Sherlock's already pale face seemed to turn another shade of white.

"Damn it John! I'm a consulting detective, not a midwife! I don't know the first thing about delivering a baby!"

"No, but I do." he managed to grin at Sherlock's panic through strained breaths. "This may be your first delivery...but it isn't mine. I've helped several omegas...bring their children into the world already. I'll talk you through it, but you've got to get me out of this room first."

He was right. Who knew if the snipers were still there or not? Bending over, he allowed John's arm about his neck as he got him to his feet before beginning the agonizingly slow walk to the dressing rooms. It seemed that John could only walk so far before having to stop to breathe through contractions that were now right on top of each other. And it hurt Sherlock nearly as much to see John in that much pain. Why Omegas chose to do this at all seemed completely illogical to him... Desperate to ease some of the pain, he pulled John close to him; letting his head rest against his chest and swaying together until John decided to move again. And from the look on John's face, it was the best thing he could have done. It was during one of these 'dances' that Shelock was alarmed to discover that John was now trembling under his touch even though he couldn't possibly be cold.

"John..." he started.

"It's normal... We're getting close..." John replied, already knowing where Sherlock's mind was going. At last, the dressing room. Gingerly swinging the door open, he loosed his grip on John long enough to shove a large stack of chairs in front the door, keeping any potential snipers out of the room for the time being. He'd figure out what to do if they started shooting when they come to it. Leaving John on a bench, he hurried into a side room, grabbing the items that John had instructed him to get; towels, a first aid kit, anything he thought they'd need. Of course, he did manage to take a moment to type out a frantic text to Mycroft.

EMERGENCY. JOHN IN LABOR. THE POOL. SEND HELP. - SH

It was just as he was pressing the 'SEND' button that a pained cry of "Sherlock! It's coming!" came from the other room, sending his heart racing with nerves. Quickly, he grabbed the last thing, a large bottle of hand sanitizer, and rubbed some into his hands before heading back. Running back into the room, he stopped short at the sight of John perched on the edge of the bench; his lower body already undressed as he pushed with what was left of the contraction, his face flushed red from the exertion. It was surreal for Sherlock to see; John, his only friend, going through what as an Alpha he could only imagine (and had no desire to experience for himself) but handling it with the calmness and determination of...well...a soldier. The contraction over, his whole body seemed to go limp as he let his head lean forward, his eyes distant as he attempted to relax.

"Get over here Sherlock." he breathed; Sherlock surprised that he even registered he was there. In an instant, he was next to John, sitting cross-legged on the floor as he nervously arranged the various items around them for easy access.

"Lay one of the towels...on the floor..." was the next instruction from John, his breathing deepening as the next urges started to build. Sherlock had just managed to spread the towel out when John could no longer fight and gave into the urge to push, his body on autopilot now as it directed his actions. Instinctively, his hands reached for Sherlock's arms and sensing that this was what John needed now more than anything, he allowed John's fingers to squeeze painfully tight into his shoulders. John's green eyes then match up with his own gray ones and lock, showing unrelenting focus for nearly a full minute as he forced the baby further down.

"What do I do John? How can I help?" Sherlock asked, not breaking John's gaze.

"Just...catch..." he panted, shifting his legs further apart before giving another hard push.

"Are you kidding me?!" he nearly shouted. "You're being ripped apart and you just want me to sit here and catch?!"

"Can you see anything?" John grunted, completely ignoring Sherlock's outburst.

"N...no; nothing yet." he stammered. "Keep going."

And keep going he did; both working together as the baby inched closer to being born.

John couldn't help but give a pained smile at one point when he realized that Sherlock was holding his breath every time he was.

"Sherlock..."

"What?"

"Breathe."

"Oh right."

And before long...

"There's a face! John, I can see a face!" Sherlock exclaimed, his gray eyes wide as saucers.

"Posterior presentation..." he heard John mumble.

"What?"

"Baby's coming out face up." he managed to explain with a grunt. "Makes delivery harder..."

"What do I do?!" Sherlock asked quickly, a hint of worry in his voice as he was now concerned for the safety of John and the baby.

But John said nothing; his teeth grit as with an easy push, the rest of the head emerged, leaving him gasping for breath.

As he quickly checked for a cord, Sherlock couldn't help but analyze the tiny features facing back at him as her head rested in his hands.

The slightest smile crossed his face. "She looks like Sarah..."

"Thank goodness... God forbid if she looked like me-e-e!" John nearly screamed as the next contraction hit full force. Looking back down, he could see she had started to turn to make room for her shoulders.

"Keep going John!" The excitement in Sherlock's voice seemed to rival earlier that week when he found the Van Buren supernova in that painting. "She's coming!"

Slowly John nodded, determined to finish this. And with one last scream, the newborn slid out quickly into Sherlock's hands, soaking the ground and everything with it.

Staring at the tiny being in his hands, Sherlock seemed in shock, almost unsure of what he had just witnessed. Then as its face scrunched and let out a tiny cry, he could feel his breath catch. She was actually here. The thing that Sarah and John had made together, that once gray bean in the sonogram photo on Mrs. Hudson's fridge, the creation that had sent John into the most interesting cravings and mood swings (he had analyzed every single one), was a living, breathing person...

"Give her to me." he heard John say, exhausted but smiling as he pulled her close to him to start the bonding with her. Sherlock could only watch in amazement at the two of them; all traces of intensity in John's eyes gone as he spoke in hushed tones to the infant lying on his chest and covered in his shirt.

"Nora." he finally says aloud after a few moments, breaking the spell.

"What?"

"Her name." John explains. "Sarah and I decided that we were going to name her Nora." And he held his breath in wait of Sherlock's response. He remembered the grief that Sherlock had given him when he and Sarah were deciding on names for their son, Rory; how they couldn't have come up with something more unique. This coming from a man named Sherlock who has a brother named Mycroft... Sometimes it was nice to be normal. And darn it if he was going to let Sherlock change...

"That's a nice one." he said simply.

"That's right. And you're not...what did you say?" John asked, surprised.

"I said, 'That's a nice one.' Nora Watson is a lovely name for her, especially considering the pianist she'll become with those long fingers."

"Most babies have long fingers Sherlock. You can't tell me you can tell what she's going to be when she grows up by the length of her fingers..."

He had no response, just a smirk as he rose to his feet to remove the chairs that were blocking the door before the medics arrived.

"Damn..." John thought to himself. He was probably going to be right...

_**-THE END-**_


End file.
